A Story for Benjamin
by iamanundeadmonkey
Summary: Having barely survived the slit to his throat, Sweeney Todd now lives near his daughter and her wife and son, Benjamin. He tells Benjamin stories almost daily, but the one that he has come out recently is nearly unbelievable, or autobiographical.
1. A New Story for Benjamin

A/N: Wow, I haven't written (or posted eheh) in forever

A/N: Wow, I haven't written (or posted eheh) in forever!! Well then!! Umm…as usual, this was a little plot bunny that popped into my head that I thought was slightly oddball at first, and then couldn't get out of my head for weeks and wrote down after letting it stew for a while. Yes, I _know _that survival for Sweeney was basically impossible and I'm incredibly sorry for that, BUT it's necessary for the story. :) So enjoy!

P.S.: I have no idea what Anthony's actual last name was, so I just took it from Johanna's sweetheart in the actual Sweeney Todd story as a bit of (once again) oddness.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot! I'm not saying it again so get your fill here!

Prologue: A New Story for Benjamin

Mr. Todd had always told eleven-year-old Benjamin Ingestrie good stories as long as he could remember. Benjamin could clearly remember his first meeting with the man at four years old; it was probably something he would never forget because of the stories that had ensued the meeting.

From his own insignificant height at the time, Mr. Todd had seemed to tower over Benjamin and his parents, Johanna and Anthony. Even at his young age, Benjamin could see that Mr. Todd was a bit sad and very, very tired. The ivory streak that cut through his wild mane of black hair had added to this vision.

Mr. Todd then smiled at the boy, a warm smile that nearly touched his eyes, as though he had forgotten how to do the thing.

"You must be young Benjamin," he said in a quiet, rough voice, squatting down and holding out a hand. Benjamin shook it with a tighter grip than was necessary to show this man what type of a boy he was. He tried to look away from the dark eyes that seemed to have sunk into their sockets. Instead, his eyes found the angry red scar crossing Mr. Todd's neck.

"Yes, sir. Where did you get that?" he asked, pointing.

Johanna took Benjamin by the hand, shushing him. "Don't be rude, sweetie."

"That's all right," Mr. Todd murmured, straightening up. "Make a good story for when he's older." He gave a little half-wink.

"Why don't you go play with your toys?" Johanna said, propelling Benjamin to the next room while the adults went to the kitchen. Naturally, he tried to listen in, but it was mostly grown-up talk. All he could glean was that Mr. Todd was to be staying here for a bit, until he "got back on his feet." It seemed to Benjamin that Mr. Todd walked okay – what were they talking about?

Now, seven years later, he walked down to Mr. Todd's house on the coast almost daily, depending on the story. Benjamin shuddered and pulled his collar up against the first drops of rain. The wind whipped his dark hair into his eyes as he knocked on the door to Mr. Todd's cottage.

"Come in," came the quiet voice from within.

Benjamin closed the door with a snap in an effort to keep out the chill. "Hi, Mr. T," he called as he moved to the sitting room.

"Don't call me that," Mr. Todd scowled, flicking his gaze out the window.

Benjamin's curiosity got the better of him before he could think better of it. "Why not?"

Mr. Todd turned dark, liquid eyes on him. "Someone that was curiously dear to me called me that before she died."

The younger boy blinked in surprise. He was not at all used to hearing things in such a blunt way from Mr. Todd. It suddenly struck him that the ivory streak had widened quite a bit, and that there were no laugh lines around his eyes; only two that were permanently etched into the center of his brow.

"Sorry," Benjamin said, and then, "D'you have a story for me, sir?" in more eager tones.

Mr. Todd drew in a breath and let it out through his nose in a gust. "I suppose I do."

"What about?" the boy questioned.

"An old acquaintance of mine…by the name of Benjamin Barker."

Benjamin cocked his head.

"Yes, I suppose you were named after him. Sit down; this is a long one."

He sat in the armchair across from Mr. Todd's, sensing that this was important. "Let's hear it then, Mr. T…odd."

A/N: Yeah, it's kinda short, I know, but the chapters will be longer, I promise. I've got the first one written already, but I have to go get ready to leave, otherwise I would put it up sooner. O.o I'm kinda late, so gotta run, see ya later!! Leave love and get love back! Hey cool I coined a phrase. :)


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: well then, I got a couple of happy reviews, so I suppose I'll continue on. Although I probably would have anyway because I'm having way too much fun with this. :D so enjoy my strange little musings…gahahaha. -strokes Sweeney-

Chapter 1

Benjamin Barker's body was numb. It had been all right at first when it had only been his feet, but the crawling feeling had seeped up his legs and through his torso, and finally to his mud- and water-streaked face. _The ship must have a leak, _his brain told him brokenly.

"I don't care," he mumbled to himself. "Let it bloody sink."

"Oh, shut up," barked one of the other prisoners. "None of us like it either."

"None of you are innocent," Barker snarled.

"Of course we are!" the other said.

Barker turned away. The prisoner clapped him on the back. "Hey, sorry 'bout that, chummy. Name's Silverbrass. What's yours?"

"Barker. Benjamin Barker."

"Well then, Mr. Barker. What's _your_ sob story? Silverbrass asked, not unkindly.

"I was sent here on false charges," Barker said, hoping his voice wouldn't break. "The judge…Judge Turpin…he wanted my wife. So he had me arrested…and…"

"Yeah, we know the rest," Silverbrass said, almost sounding bored. "Evil judge sends you here, you sob the entire way to the ship and sober up to look tough and then sit here thinkin on how bad you got it."

Barker whipped around, eyes flashing. "Mine's true, but what sort of slander did _you _cook up for us all? Go on, let's hear it!"

Silverbrass stared at him for a moment and then let out a bray of laughter. Barker blinked in surprise.

"I like you, Barker!" Silverbrass proclaimed. "Actually, I am guilty. This is my third time bein caught in the act, so they figured on teachin me a lesson. I'm all right with it, though." He slipped a pipe from his pocket, clenched it between his teeth, and then struck a match on the shackles holding him to the boat. "Mmm. Better."

"You'll be caught," Barker said. He was nervous for the man, though still not sure if he liked him. Silverbrass rolled his eyes.

"What'll they do, ship me off to Australia? Now there's a scary thought."

Barker almost smiled.

The entire deck of prisoners looked up at the sound of footfalls. Silverbrass's pipe disappeared into his pocket once more.

"Why do I smell smoke?" bellowed a voice as Lieutenant Penton strode around the corner. Silverbrass stretched luxuriously and exhaled a cloud.

"I dunno, officer. Maybe your nose's goin as well as your brain."

That got an appreciative laugh from the prisoners, quickly silenced by Penton's black look. The lieutenant stalked over and unlocked the shackles, then hauled Silverbrass to his feet.

"Let's go, you cheeky little bugger."

Silverbrass allowed himself to be led up the stairs, cheerfully calling Penton every swear in the book. Barker could see the lieutenant's ears glowing from where he sat against the wall. He decided he liked Silverbrass…with certain reservations for his near bipolar behavior.

"You know him?" said the nasally voice of a man he was fairly sure was called Jenning.

Barker shook his head.

"What was that? Couldn't hear you," Jenning said, cuffing him on the back of the neck.

"I shook my head, you ignorant little bug," Barker said coldly.

"Bug, am I?" Jenning said in indignation. "What does that make your _wife_, then, buddy boy?"

Barker lunged for him. "YOU SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW MY WIFE!"

"What makes you think _that_?" Jenning said with a smug grin.

Barker made to bash his nose in, but was held back by chains. "You're lucky I can't tear these bloody things out of the floor," he hissed, wishing for his razors to do harm for the first time.

"Mr. Barker. Hey, Mr. Barker, calm down," said a soft voice on his left.

Barker looked around, eyes blazing.

"Don't listen to him," the man advised. "It's what he wants."

Barker closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "Okay."

"My name's Peter Stanley. I was sent here falsely as well."

"You mean you believe me?" he said, incredulous.

"You don't seem the type to do anything really bad," Stanley said.

They looked up as Silverbrass stumbled back down the stairs, accompanied by a complacent Penton.

"Did they whip you?" Barker said.

"Yep."

"You okay?"

"Fine," Silverbrass growled.

Stanley touched his arm. "Does it hurt very much?" he murmured.

"A bit," Silverbrass said in an embarrassed voice.

"You'll be okay."

"Yeah.

By the end of the trip, the only man that any prisoner believed was innocent was Peter Stanley.

… … …

"Mr. Todd, sir?" Benjamin said after a few minutes. Mr. Todd looked back at the boy.

"Eh?"

"Are you all right? You seem a bit…"

"Fine, fine," he said. "It's getting late, now. Better be off home."

"May I come back tomorrow for more?" Benjamin said.

"Of course," Mr. Todd said in his curiously soft voice. "You're the only one that would ever listen to what would be construed as an old man's ravings."

… … …

Later that night, Benjamin picked at his carrots, thinking about Mr. Todd's most recent story.

"Mum?" he said finally.

"Mmm?" Johanna replied.

"Who's Benjamin Barker?"

The table went silent.

"Mr. Todd been telling you stories again?" she said.

"He told me that's who I was named after."

She sighed. "Benjamin Barker was my father. He died long ago."

"And Mr. Todd knew him?" Benjamin pressed.

"Yes."

"Okay."

He cast a glance at the forlorn carrots scattered about his otherwise empty plate. "May I be excused?"

"After you eat your carrots," Johanna scolded. "Your father will be home soon."

Benjamin resigned himself to the carrots, stabbed one with his fork, and placed it as far into his cheek as it could go. He nearly gagged on it. "Stupid carrots," he muttered.

A/N: there you have it, the first installment of many. Many manys. Whyistherumgone pointed out that Anthony's last name in the movie was Hope, something that I obviously had no clue about in the prologue – gracias Skippy! –hugs- So I've got the second chapter started (well pretty much a paragraph but it's a start, eheh) and hopefully that'll be up soon, but I'm leaving for Wyoming tomorrow for a week – we'll be horseback riding for 5 HOURS A DAY. So I'll get lots of time to write, but I don't think I'll be able to put it up for a while. Love leaving much welcomed :)


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I haven't written (or posted eheh) in forever

A/N: I'm so sorry guys, I haven't put up anything in forever!! I've been so busy with school, volleyball, etc. so I haven't had much time for the computer or writing. But I assume that if you're reading this that you'd rather I just get on with the story, so here you go!!

Chapter 2

The following day, Mr. Todd never answered Benjamin's knocks.

"Mr. Todd?" he yelled through the door. "Mr. Todd, are you all right?" No answer was forthcoming. Flouting most of the rules of rudeness taught by his mother, Benjamin opened the door and walked into the eerily quiet cottage.

"Mr. Todd?" he called softly. He crept into the living room and sighed in relief; Mr. Todd was asleep in his wicker rocking chair, for once peaceful. He seemed younger, untroubled, his look less haunted.

His mouth twitched and he mumbled something, then jerked awake. Benjamin jumped, and Mr. Todd looked around, half-rising, his fingers going toward his side in what seemed to be an automatic move.

"Ah, Benjamin!" he said, relieved. The fingers seemed almost disappointed to find nothing at his side as they fluttered back to his lap. "You gave me a bit of a turn; wasn't expecting you there."

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just I knocked and you didn't answer, so I came in to make sure you were okay….It won't happen again, sir, I swear I -"

"Calm down, boy, calm down. Why wouldn't I be okay?" Mr. Todd said in genuine puzzlement.

"You didn't hear?" Benjamin said, forgetting "sir" in his eagerness to spread the story.

"Hear…?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Cunningham was found dead this morning," he spouted out.

Mr. Todd's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. "_Really, _now. That poor fellow? Whatever happened to him?"

"Mummy wouldn't tell me," Benjamin said promptly. "She said it wasn't nice. I told her that I've heard mean things before, but she still wouldn't say."

"Well!" Mr. Todd said. "I never. Who would…? Ah, never mind. Now did you want me to tell more of the story? Or would you rather we went up to your house to see what was going on?"

"More of the story!" Benjamin said.

Mr. Todd smiled faintly. "All right. Let's see…where was I now?"

"Mr. Barker just ended his trip on the boat."

"Ah, yes. I remember now. Well, Barker stepped onto the gangplank and

… … …

into the blinding sunlight. Some had told stories of Australia's lush, green, and mountainous landscape, but this was apparently not that part of the continent. Or they had lied for no reason. Barker decided to go with the former so that he could restore some form of hope. Perhaps the port and the desolate grounds beyond were merely the illusion before the wonders.

He rather doubted that, he thought as he was jerked towards the dock, ankles straining against the cutting metal. His wrists hung down by his waist, twitching away from the metal beginning to burn in the sun, and he winced as splinters buried themselves in the soles of his feet.

A faceless soldier jerked at the rope tied to the handcuffs when barker started to limp. Feeling as though he was now walking on nothing but splinters, he stumbled into the soldier, who served Barker a swift backhand. "In line, prisoner!"

Barker obeyed with a mumbled apology. Silverbrass laughed from behind him. "You don't _apologize_," Silverbrass said. "Watch and learn!" He went on to throw a quick volley of curses and threats at the soldier, who stared straight ahead as though nothing were happening.

"Oh, c'mon, Benny, you know you want to," Silverbrass grinned. "It's fun. C'mon, kid, cheer up."

"Don't call me Benny," Barker mumbled.

"All right, you don't want to talk, buddy boy, I get it. I -"

"Oh, will you shut the hell up?" one of the soldiers snapped.

"Screw off," Silverbrass threw back with a smile. "Love ya, chummy."

After about an hour of walking, the group reached a cluster of dingy-looking huts. On top of a nearby hill sat a blue mansion, grey-shuttered and nearly gleaming. As the soldiers ushered them towards the huts, Barker was sure he was leaving behind bloody footprints. He was about the only one with soft enough feet to get splinters in the first place, though he was almost sure that would change soon.

Barker was shoved into a hut, relieved of his manacles, and locked in with Silverbrass, Stanley, Jenning, and a fourth man named Falin. The last had a slightly maniacal grin and bulgy eyes that Barker didn't like.

It was Stanley that spoke up first. "Now look, fellows," he said in an oddly commanding voice for a man of his personality. "I know two of you nearly had it out a few times on the ship, but I won't tolerate it here. Either way Penton'll do something to the both of you."

"Yeah, so why don't you kiss and make up?" Silverbrass cracked.

Falin let out a high-pitched, wheezy giggle.

"Shut up for once, Silverbrass," Stanley said.

The bigger man sat down hard on the floor, his mass of blond hair flopping into his face.

"Are we agreed?" Stanly pressed.

"Sure," Barker said, having no particular desire to "have it out" with Jenning at the moment.

"What do you think you're going to do if we decide to fight anyway?" Jenning asked.

"I like Barker, so I'll just get him to stop. You'll get a good one over the head."

"I see. So what happens when I kill you afterwards?"

"You're dead," Silverbrass put in. "Trust me, my man. You will die. Slowly." He showed just enough of his knife to confirm that it was there.

"Don't," Stanley said in a low voice.

"Oh, I will," Silverbrass growled, still eyeing Jenning.

"It's not particularly necessary to kill anyone…come on. Drop it. It's stupid," Barker said.

Jenning glowered at him. "Will you _please_ shut the hell up?"

"The day you find the capacity for three brain cells," Barker snapped. "The one you've got now isn't cutting it."

Jenning invited Barker to do something inappropriate to himself. Barker ambled over to the other side of the hut and flipped a rude gesture over at Jenning as he claimed the softest spot of floor he could find.

… … …

Benjamin was giggling. "Did Jenning really only have one brain cell?" he asked.

"So our friend Mr. Barker thought," Mr. Todd told him with a faint smile. "I think that's enough for today. I want to find out about poor Mr. Cunningham."

… … …

Sweeney Todd propelled young Benjamin before him into Johanna's home. A spitting image of what had once been himself, Todd thought grimly, running his fingers through the wide ivory streak of hair.

He heard Johanna calling, "Benjamin, is that you?" and the boy answering, "Yes, Mummy, and Mr. Todd is with me!" as Benjamin bounced into the kitchen.

Johanna came out to meet both of them. "You heard?" she directed at Todd.

"Yes, I did," he said. "Only that he was found dead. I don't know, do you know more?"

"I was asked to help with the body," she told him with a little shudder. "Not for small ears. Benjamin, why don't you go play with your new cars?"

Benjamin sighed and trudged off to his room.

Todd followed Johanna back to the kitchen, where she closed the door. "What's going on?" he said, his voice growing softer.

"It was _awful_," Johanna told him, sitting at the table. Todd lowered himself carefully onto the chair across from her.

"His throat was cut, we think…there was so much blood that we could hardly tell. It was all spattered across the room, and there were footprints in it, all over the place."

She broke off, shuddering again.

"That poor old man," Todd murmured. "I wonder who would do something like that."

A/N: Well, there you have it, folks. Chappie 2. I hope you liked it…it's going to get a lot better soon!! :) Leave me some love, and I'll update again soon…4 day weekend and I already have chapter 3 written down!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, I haven't written (or posted eheh) in forever

A/N: Well hello again! Thanks to all for the reviews…and thanks to Shadow Archer for all the…everything. Wow. I totally didn't expect that, so thank you muchly!! :) Volleyball ends on Friday (last game…depressing) so I should have tons more time than I have been. I hope. About an extra 2 hours a day during the week, haha. So hopefully more writing will get done?? We'll see. So here's the next chapter…enjoy!! :)

Chapter 3

Today, Benjamin's elation at hearing more of Mr. Todd's story was dampened. He was not sure why; perhaps it was fear of what seemed to be a plague of death, as a young woman and her husband had been found dead this morning. Perhaps he wondered what was going to happen next in the story but was foolishly afraid of the knowledge. Whatever the reason, it wasn't strong enough to keep him from knocking on Mr. Todd's door the next morning.

"Benjamin?" came the quiet voice. Footsteps moving up the hall.

"Yes, sir," Benjamin called through the door.

"Ah," Mr. Todd said, smiling as he looked out at Benjamin. "I didn't think it was anyone else, but one can't be careful enough. I'm sure you heard about the unfortunate Rileys, my boy?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Mummy said to tell you it was the same as before, so they think it's a cereal killer." Benjamin paused. "Does that mean he killed the people and ate their cereal too?"

Mr. Todd chuckled. "No, no. It means that he killed a lot of people. That's serial killer, with an 's.'"

"Oh," Benjamin said. "So were any of the people in Australia with Mr. Barker…serial killers?"

"I don't think he found out for sure, but he suspected Mr. Falin," Mr. Todd said. "I make the assumption that you wanted to hear more of the story?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Benjamin replied with an enthusiasm he did not quite feel. He supposed it would come later with the story.

Mr. Todd smiled again and settled himself into a chair while Benjamin sat across from him.

"The morning following the exchanged threats," Mr. Todd started, "Barker was rudely awakened by

… … …

a metal spoon clanging on the bottom of a pot. His eyes snapped open and his back cracked out a protest to its long sentence on the hard dirt floor.

"Up, allaya!" roared the voice to whom the pot and spoon belonged. Barker resolved to smack the man over the head with his own pot next chance he got. He surveyed the scrawny, unshaven man with bleary-eyed disinterest. What was at the man's feet was far more interesting: a platter of bread along with a pitcher of water.

"All right! Allaya can call me Foreman, 'cause that's what I am. You'll listen to me, ya hear, or there's unpleasantness to answer ta."

Foreman waved his pot menacingly and gave them an evil grin, which should have displayed many teeth but showed only a few yellowed, broken stumps stuck into swollen gums.

"Up front in five, better eat quick!"

Foreman left, cackling to himself, and slammed the door. The five of them scrambled for the meager breakfast, and the tray was all grabbing hands and flying bread and spilling water. They tore hunks of bread off with their teeth, slopping water down after it. The tray was soon cleaned, the water drained to the last drop.

Barker led the other four out the door and found most of the other prisoners were already outside their little shacks. Foreman was pacing up and down, delivering instructions.

"Do ya see dat big house yonder? Ya're doing work there. Or fer them people. Ya'll be liftin heavy boxes of food and supplies, an splittin rocks fer a gravel driveway. Ya'll be plowin an hoein an plantin the field, then harvestin come fall." He pointed to a few groups of men at each explanation.

"People I told, ya're on that duty today. Ya're rotatin every day."

"So we're slaves!" called one of the prisoners.

"Yup!" Foreman answered. "Enjoy yaselves. Go on, git to work!"

Barker gritted his teeth and followed the others around back of the mansion, at least a ten minute walk. Once there, they met a ruddy-faced man with dirty pants and a squashed cap.

"Divide up. One half'll get stuff on the loading dock and the others'll bring it up to storage," he said in a bored voice. Barker liked his Australian accent. "I'm overseeing you. Get to work."

The entire group of men consisted of about thirty. They quickly divided up. Barker ended up on the loading dock with Silverbrass, Falin, and about twelve others that he didn't recognize. Smoothing the hair from his face, Barker stripped off his shirt with the others in preparation for the long, hot day that was sure to follow.

As the first box came up, Silverbrass leaned down to get it. Barker reached for the next, nearly fell over the edge with the weight, and followed the blond head up the narrow staircase. Sweat was already covering Barker's body in an oily slick, and his arms felt ready to rip from their sockets. His knuckles scraped constantly on the walls, and he was sure that they were bleeding. Shuddering, his legs took the last stair and Barker's box thunked down next to Silverbrass's.

"Tired already?" Silverbrass said. He wasn't even breathing heavily. Barker swore at him.

"I'm a barber. What do you want from me?"

Silverbrass let out a short laugh and went back down the stairs. Barker followed suit, examining his knuckles. Red, but the skin had not yet broken. By the time his fifth crate was stacked with the others, however, the blood was flowing freely from his knuckles and dripping off his fingertips.

Barker was about at his wit's end when Jenning handed up a box and let it drop on Barker's fingers. Barker didn't allow himself a noise; only made himself grasp the bottom corners and heave it up. Just then, Falin stumbled into him, causing Barker to fall and drop the crate from the loading dock. His chin struck the ground, and he felt the skin split. He swore loudly as he heard the box break open below.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he bellowed at Falin as he climbed to his feet. The other only gave his wheezy laugh as the ruddy-faced man stormed up the stairs.

"Who was that?" he roared to the men.

All eyes slid inadvertently to Barker and back up.

"_What were you thinking?"_

"I'm sorry, sir, I only stumbled," Barker hastened to say.

He received a backhand to the face.

"It won't happen again."

"No, no, it won't happen again."

A second backhand.

"It won't happen again _what_?"

"It won't happen again, _sir_," Barker said. "My apologies."

The man whirled and went back down the stairs. All of the prisoners shuffled silently back into action. Falin wheezed out another giggle as Silverbrass picked his way over.

"Tough luck there, kid," Silverbrass said. He flipped a rude gesture at Falin and clapped Barker's shoulder. "C'mon, let's go."

Barker took a deep breath in an attempt to prepare himself for the struggle that he would have to call a day, but it didn't help at all whatsoever.

… … …

Mr. Todd stopped and went to the kitchen. "My throat hurts from talking so much," he murmured with a smile. He took a sip of water.

"I'm sorry, sir. Do you want me to go?" Benjamin asked.

"Of no personal aversion to you, my boy. I'm feeling a bit under the weather."

"Do you want to come to our house, sir? Mother could help you." His tones were anxious.

"No, no. I'll be all right. Probably just a bit of a cold," Mr. Todd said. "You may still come back tomorrow, if you want more of the story."

"Thank you, Mr. Todd," Benjamin said. "I'll come."

"Good," Mr. Todd smiled. "I'll see your then. Keep safe, my boy."

A/N: And that's it! I hope you all liked it. Leave me some love! I want to know what you think. And whyistherumgone, if you're reading this, you have my permission to attack if I don't call you by 5:30 – 6 tonight because I need to ask you something important!!


End file.
